All Our Yesterdays
by QuirksnQuills
Summary: A novelization of Fallout 4, told from the perspective of Lacey Washburn - the sole survivor of Vault 111.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to my novelization of Fallout 4. All Fallout 4 characters, recognizable in-game dialogue, etc. are copyright Bethesda.**

ONE

Saturday, October 23, 2077

"War. War never changes."

Nate's ragged face loomed in the fog-clouded mirror, scowling his best Master Corporal scowl, practicing for the coming evening's events. I wound my arms around his waist and rested my cheek against his back, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes at the macho display.

"You're going to knock 'em dead tonight, hon," I murmured. His back muscles shifted under my cheek as I squeezed him gently. "My turn, big guy. You take more time in here than I do."

A soft chuckle reverberated through us. He snared one of my clasped hands from his waist and pressed his lips against the backs of my fingers. Steel-grey eyes met mine in the mirror. "That's because I have to try twice as hard to look half as good, my beautiful wife."

I studied my own reflection as he sidled out of the bathroom behind me, off to investigate the smell of freshly-ground coffee and the sound of the television news anchor floating down the hallway from the kitchen. _Hmph._ _Not so beautiful today._ One hand reached automatically to the makeup bag overflowing on the vanity, groping for the edges of my favourite circle of rose powder. A sweep of colour on each cheek to counteract the paper-whiteness was required, I decided. Most mornings I couldn't be bothered, but that day, I needed the pick-me-up. Call it stage makeup to play the ideal Army wife and new mom, who always looked pretty, smelled nice, and definitely didn't spend all night attempting to nurse a screaming, teething four-month-old.

Sufficiently primped for a Saturday morning, I drifted to the kitchen with a yawn and deposited myself on a stool at the breakfast bar. Codsworth, our robotic butler, greeted me with his usual tinny British cheer. "Ahhh, good morning, ma'am!"

"Good morning, Codsworth." I gratefully accepted the proffered mug from his metal claw, sipping while he bobbed about the kitchen on his little rocket, blathering on about the exact brewing temperature of the coffee and every other thing I couldn't give a damn about. Only an irascible wail from Shaun's room distracted him, and he hastened to my son's aid, commenting about someone having made a stinky.

"Oh, lord." Nate leaned back hastily from his spot at the window. "It's that salesman again. I don't know why he keeps bothering you."

"Fuck's sake." I banged my coffee down on the countertop, sloshing a little bit of coffee over the rim.

"Hey, watch out for Grognak!" Nate rescued his freshly-delivered comic book from the perils of my wrath, dabbing a few droplets from its cover with a frown and a handy kitchen towel.

Upon wrenching the door open, I was greeted by the sight of a fidgety man in a matching fedora and trench coat. "Good morning," he enthused. "Vault-Tec Calling!"

"Good morning." _Apply rictus grin to frontal head interface, attempt not to kill wienerschnitzel salesman, repeat._

"I"m so glad to finally have the opportunity to speak with you! It's a matter of the utmost importance, I assure you!"

 _Does he end every sentence with an exclamation mark?_ "Well, I'm here now. What's so important?"

"Tell me, what are your plans in the event of total nuclear annihilation?"

"Well, you know. Being dead."

Mr. Vault-Tec shifted his weight on his feet and swallowed audibly. 'W-well, today's your lucky day! To thank you for your family's military service, you have been pre-selected for entry into our local vault: Vault 111!"

"All of us? You can fit my family, right?"

"Yes, of course! Well, minus your robot, naturally. I just need to ask you a few questions first."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine, let's get this over with."

Once all of his questions were answered - our full names, height, weight, occupation, and the like - the rep seemed only too happy to leave, congratulating me on my preparedness for the future while fleeing to his company van. I slammed the door after him with an irritated grunt.

"C'mere, grumpy." Nate patted the empty spot on the sofa. Coffee in hand, I settled next to him, nuzzling against his side. One muscular arm slid around me; the smell of soap and musk sharpened. "Didn't get much sleep, huh?"

"Nope." I swallowed a yawn with a lukewarm sip of coffee.

"Are you sure Codsworth can't just give him a bottle?"

"I keep telling you, Nate, he won't take one. I wish he would! I've tried. I've had Codsworth try. He just spits it out and screams. Next time, let's make sure to get a robot slave with tits."

I pounded helpfully on Nate's back while he coughed out the coffee in his lungs. "C-christ, Lacey," he spluttered.

Codsworth bustled back into the room, begging me to silence the squalling infant in the bedroom at the end of the hall. With one last, wistful look at my now-cold morning brew, I abandoned the cup on the island and went to tend to my son.

Shaun lay in his crib, freshly changed and swaddled. He grunted and snuffled uneasily, apparently on the brink of letting out another scream. I scooped him up, settling into the rocking chair and unbuttoning my blouse with a few practiced, rapid movements. In seconds, he had latched greedily, and the tingling, shooting sensation of milk letting down was promptly followed by wet clicking noise of his swallows. One tiny hand wormed free of his wrappings and patted my breast gently, as if to say _good boobie._ I stroked his cheek with one forefinger, soothing the bloom of teething rash that stained the rose-petal skin. Together, we rocked back and forth, stopping only to switch sides. Before long, he'd dozed off, still suckling reflexively between long pauses, breath deep and even.

Nate darkened the doorway of the nursery, his steely eyes sparkling with happiness. "How's my boy? Not causing too much trouble, I hope."

"I dunno how someone so small can eat so much," I replied. I pressed a finger to Shaun's cheek to break the seal of his lips; Nate scooped the sleeping baby from my arms, allowing me a moment to put my breast away and button up.

"Hey, I was thinking maybe this afternoon we could go to the park, just the three of us," Nate said hopefully. "The weather should hold up."

"Oh yeah. Right. I should go to the park. With you. Because I really want to get pregnant again." Regret seized me instantly when a wounded look crossed Nate's features, but before he could respond, Codsworth's panicked voice called from the living room.

"Sir? Ma'am? I think you should come and see this!"

Nate and I traded a concerned glance, then rushed out to the living room, Shaun still sleeping in his father's arms. I stopped short in front of the television. The anchor was reading breaking news, his face creased with grief and fear. A wave rolled through my stomach as his words reached my ears.

"Confirmed detonations - that's confirmed reports of detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. Oh, God." A burst of static cut off the broadcast at the same moment that an air-raid siren wailed to life in the distance, blade-sharp in the clear blue morning.

"We have to get to the vault! Now!" Nate gave me a shove with the arm that wasn't holding Shaun, who had wakened with the siren and begun to howl. "I've got Shaun! Go! GO!"

I stumbled into a run, my feet pounding the pavement in time with my heart. Neighbours were boiling out of their doors, some crying, others yelling, while soldiers and Vault-Tec staff directed the crowd down the footpath to the north. I nearly fell over a couple arguing amongst their dropped belongings, stuffing nightshirts and cocktail dresses back into the faulty suitcase that had spilled them. The tide of screams and galloping footfalls carried me up the crest of a hill, crashing to a halt against a chain-link gate. More armed guards flanked a soldier-type standing just beyond the gate, with a clipboard and a panicked but officious air. Another guard was in the process of dragging a very familiar Vault-Tec representative away from the gate by the collar of his obnoxiously yellow trench coat.

"You can't do this! I _am_ Vault-Tec," he squealed, purple-faced and breathless. I caught a brief glint of his ginger hair in the sun as he flew past, tossed on his ass down the hill by the much larger guard. His fedora tumbled comically after him, propelled by an ominously turbulent breeze. "You have to let me in! I'm reporting this!

My breath hitched in my burning lungs. Strangers' arms and hands pushed and slapped at my back, scrabbling for the fence next to the gate. One sleeve caught on a loose wire, ripping the fabric cleanly up the side and scratching the tender flesh of my upper arm. "Let us in! We're on the list, let us in!"

"Infant male, adult male, adult female," Mr. Clipboard listed, scribbling notes with his blue plastic pen as though the world weren't ending. "Everything seems to be in order, go in."

I cast a final glance over my shoulder at the crumpled yellow figure at the bottom of the hill; in the next breath, my senses were temporarily lost in the wail of the sirens and the brutal wind in my ears.

We arrived on a massive circular platform at the top of the hill. Nate had barely climbed up next to me before a deafening explosion thundered in the southwest., sending a cloud of smoke and embers mushrooming into the sky.

Thinly, through the whistling howl of the wind and the screams of terror, a man's voice rose. "Send it down! Send it down NOW!"

As I clutched my bloodied arm, panting, the elevator platform shuddered to life under our feet with a metallic squeal. The ground swallowed us just as the shockwave smashed into Sanctuary Hills, beating my breath from my open mouth in a soundless gasp.

Nate's face drifted through my addled mind, clean-shaven and jar-headed as he had been before his first tour of duty in Alaska - a lifetime ago, now. He had explained how the bomb works one night while I took a study break during law school, grimly polishing his boots as he did so. When it detonates, he'd said, the first thing to hit you is the blinding light and heat of the flashpoint, followed promptly by the shockwave, a percussive blast of air forced billowing outward in all directions from the explosion, then back again to fill the void it left. Finally, the fallout comes, and the cloud of irradiated debris falls like snow, blanketing the ground with lingering death.

These things I knew, but nothing prepared me for the reality of the bomb.

We plummeted through howling darkness for what seemed like a century, the screech of metal on metal drowning out the sobs and cries of those huddled around me. I strained to hear Nate's ragged breathing somewhere to my right and caught it, faintly, blending with Shaun's whimpers. After an eternity, the platform shuddered to a halt inside a metal cage, silhouetted against the glare of construction lights beyond. An unseen voice sliced through the confusion. "Welcome, welcome to your new home!"

The next few moments passed by in a blur. At the urging of our inappropriately cheerful hosts, we all changed into phthalo blue "vault suits" with the number 111 emblazoned on the back in bright yellow. All but Shaun; he rode deep in Nate's arms, still swaddled in his favourite blanket. The next step, we were told, was to enter special decontamination pods, to get cleaned off and depressurized before heading deeper underground.

It's strange; the things that go through your head when your world is ending forever aren't the thoughts you'd expect. I remember fretting about decontamination chemicals getting into Shaun's eyes and mouth, wondering if he needed another fresh diaper, and wondering what would become of us in this strange and frightening place. I climbed into that pod with my head full of thoughts that were, in retrospect, utterly useless. It makes me angry to think about them now.

Now, I just wish I had stopped to kiss Nate and the baby before I climbed in.

The door of the pod swung down as soon as I took my place, enclosing me in a casket-like bubble of ersatz calm. I could hear nothing but an electronic female voice counting down to the decontamination sequence. Across from me, Nate rested one palm briefly on the glass in front of him. I did the same in the last moment before frost fingers clouded my vision, fading everything to white, then black.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

Interlude

I surfaced, spluttering and choking my way back to life from the endless depths of sleep. The air inside the pod was cold enough to make me cough after every deep breath that my lungs demanded.

"Cryogenic stasis….suspended. Manual override...initiated." The same robotic voice that had counted down to the darkness now announced my awakening. Through my disorientation, I felt vaguely annoyed at its chipper tone.

"Here. This is the one." A voice drew my attention to the pod directly across from me - Nate and Shaun's pod. A figure draped in an isolation suit - I presumed from its petite stature and the voice emanating from under the gas mask that it was a woman - stood in front of the pod, speaking to someone to my left, out of my view.

A balding man stepped out of the shadows to peer into the pod, where I could see Nate coughing and rubbing his eyes with his free hand. Shaun appeared to be howling, though I couldn't hear him through the pod walls. "Open it," the man growled.

"I'm trying. Hang on." The suited figure fumbled at the controls to the pod's right, releasing the door with a hiss of hydraulics and a squeal of long-disused metal . As the pod door winged upward, the sound of Nate coughing and Shaun wailing reached me, and I began pounding on the glass as best I could. My arms felt swollen and rubbery, and my half-curled fists flopped uselessly against the glass, like dead fish.

"Is...is it over?" Nate managed between hacks, bouncing Shaun awkwardly to soothe his cries.

"Almost." Bald Man's voice curled upward with a note of sarcastic amusement that I didn't understand.

"Come here, baby. Come here," the anonymous woman cooed, trying to lift Shaun from Nate's arms, but Nate only clutched him tighter, beginning a precarious tug-of-war while Bald Man looked on, mouth compressed into a sour white line. I began fumbling frantically around the pod with my dead fish hands, looking for some way to release the door from the inside, but there was none.

After a moment, Bald Man lifted a handgun and pulled the hammer back in one fluid movement. "Let the boy go. I'm only going to tell you once."

"I'm not giving you Shaun!" Nate's rage bullwhipped me from shock to fury. I cursed my gelatinous muscles as I clawed weakly at the glass in front of my face, trying to scream, to do something to distract Bald Man, but I could only gape in soundless horror.

The gun cracked. Nate's body jerked, his face slackened, and a blood rose bloomed on the breast of his vault suit. The white-suited woman yanked Shaun, now red-faced and screaming in earnest, from his father's dead arms.

"Goddammit. Take the kid and let's go," Bald Man rasped. The woman obliged, bouncing Shaun haplessly in her arms, carrying him out of my view. The last thing I saw before my vision frosted over again was Bald Man's battered face, appraising me through the glass like a shotgun he was thinking of buying. "At least we still have the backup."


End file.
